Title: ConsequencesAuthor: fengirl88Beta: blooms84Wordcount: 2280 Fandom: BBC SherlockPairing: Lestrade/John/?SherlockDisclaimer: These characters are still not mine. No matter how much I stare at them. Spoilers for A Study in Pink.Rating: NC-17Warnings: sexual content, fallout from threesome. Much angst and some violence in this part.Summary: John is confused again and this time it's not about Sherlock.

Click here for angsty!Sherlock:

Consequences

Part 8

Sherlock

Sherlock sits staring at the text message that says

Stop lying and tell

Mycroft to back off.

Or start looking for

a new flatmate.

Your choice.

JW

He's checked five times and it really was sent from Lestrade's phone. Which either means Lestrade has taken to forging John's texts (unlikely) or that John and Lestrade must be together. Together, meaning, at the very least: in the same place. Which would spell trouble, even if the text message hadn't already made that clear.

Might mean more than that.

Using someone else's phone isn't necessarily a sign of intimacy. He knows that. Borrowed John's phone the first time they met, don't think about that because it actually fucking hurts. It doesn't have to mean John and Lestrade are -

Not going to think about that either.

His head feels painfully full of all the things he's not thinking about. The racket of them makes it impossible to concentrate. It's not till the sixth reading that he asks the obvious question, the one he should have asked right away.

What has Mycroft done now?

It's no good texting Mycroft, not in this sort of emergency. Too easy for him to lie or wriggle out of it somehow. The same goes for phoning. He'll just have to go round there.

Sherlock doesn't think for a moment that Mycroft won't be home. As it happens, he's right not to. Though Mycroft clearly was on the point of going to bed. That patterned dressing-gown really doesn't suit him, but he never listens to advice about clothes. Especially not from his younger brother.

“ Sherlock,” Mycroft says, sounding uneasy.

Doesn't ask what Sherlock wants or why he's here, which is a bad sign, Sherlock thinks.

“ What have you done, Mycroft?” Sherlock asks fiercely.

Mycroft fidgets but doesn't answer.

“ What have you done to John? Tell me!”

“ I was only trying to help,” Mycroft whines.

Sherlock's not sure how his hands got round Mycroft's throat, but throttling Mycroft seems quite a good idea so he doesn't take them away. Not until Mycroft's starting to go limp and has turned a very nasty colour.

Mycroft collapses into a chair, clutching at his throat and gasping. It occurs to Sherlock, belatedly, that rendering his brother incapable of speech is not the best way to find out what's going on. Not going to apologise, though.

Eventually Mycroft stops gasping and wheezing and says “I tried to persuade DI Lestrade – that he should – leave London. And your companion – took exception to that.”

“ Don't keep calling him that!” Sherlock yells. “I am not an old lady and he is not a poor relation! He's my lover. Or he was, until you just ruined everything with your stupid heavy-handed – interfering – stupidity!”

“ I was merely trying to act in your interests,” Mycroft moans. “Lestrade seemed to me to be having a – disruptive influence on the delicate balance of your domestic affairs.”

“ I was handling that!” Sherlock roars.

“ I don't think so,” Mycroft says, witheringly.

He's clearly feeling better and Sherlock wonders about throttling him again. Mycroft sees the look in Sherlock's eye and grabs his umbrella. Flourishes it defensively.

“ What do you mean, you don't think so?” Sherlock says indignantly.

Mycroft reaches for the manila file on the coffee-table but Sherlock gets there first. Surveillance photographs cascade onto the Persian rug. Images of John. Images of Lestrade. And one image of the two of them together.

John in Lestrade's office. With his arms around Lestrade.

Sherlock's legs seem to have given way under him because he finds he's in a heap on the floor. He sits up and starts shuffling furiously through the photographs, looking at the date and time on each. Plenty more shots from that day but nothing of John and Lestrade together that evening. Just Lestrade going home and John running. Lots of John running. Going back to the surgery. Going into the Underground. Same time as Lestrade is going in the opposite direction. So they hadn't -

But that picture of them in Lestrade's office. Not good. He looks up at Mycroft. Looks down again at the photograph and sees that Lestrade looks a bit surprised and certainly isn't hugging John back. Which ought to make Sherlock feel better, but really doesn't.

“ Why didn't you show me these?” he says. “Or tell me?”

Mycroft sighs. “It didn't seem – advisable. Better to deal with it by removing the cause of the disturbance, or so I thought. I'm afraid I have been guilty of an egregious miscalculation.”

“ Are there – more of them together?” Sherlock asks. His mouth is dry and he feels dizzy.

“ No,” Mycroft says. “Though I fear there will be tomorrow. Dr Watson is with him now.”

Mycroft swallows hard. “I know,” he says. “He read it to me when we – spoke earlier. Please tell him I will – do exactly as he says.”

Which doesn't sound like Mycroft at all. As Sherlock points out.

“ It's essential to recognize when retreat is the most prudent course,” Mycroft says stiffly. “And I am confident that once Dr Watson knows I have – withdrawn the pressure on DI Lestrade he will not feel the need to -” He stops. Swallows hard again.

“ To what?” Sherlock demands. He doesn't like the way this is going at all.

Mycroft doesn't usually swear but he looks the closest to saying Shit that Sherlock's ever seen him.

“Tell me,” Sherlock says, lunging at him. Not easy to do from a sitting position.

Mycroft pushes him in the chest with the umbrella. Which hurts more than he'd expected.

Reluctantly, Mycroft says “He threatened that if I did not – leave DI Lestrade alone, he would – break off all contact with you. Permanently.”

For a moment everything is red and green and all Sherlock can see is strange floating shapes. The room's gone very cold.

“ Sherlock,” Mycroft is saying, “Sherlock. He's not going to do it. I promise. I won't let it happen.”

It's a long night. Nothing to be done. And too much to think about, or worse, imagine.

John and Lestrade.

John spending the night with Lestrade.

John and Lestrade doing the things that belong to John and Sherlock.

Some of which Sherlock doesn't even have to imagine any more, because he's seen them. Made them happen.

He tries to tell himself John wouldn't, but really why shouldn't he?

It's not as if Sherlock hasn't deserved it. Or done the same himself. He doesn't like to think how John would feel about that if he knew.

He could go round there and break in, find out for sure, but if they're together, if they're -

For the first time in his life, Sherlock's desire to know, to observe, meets something stronger than itself.

The long night is followed by a long day. Still no word from John. He's been gone nearly twenty-four hours.

Sherlock's tried ringing the Yard and the surgery but they just keep saying they can't put him through, the line's busy right now. Probably taken the phone off the hook or something.

He's fairly sure now he was wrong before about John and Lestrade. He's been searching for clues ever since that night last week and found nothing.

If it hadn't been for Mycroft, interfering like that, maybe nothing would have happened.

It's still just possible that nothing has. Given how Lestrade looked in that photograph.

Just because Sherlock finds John endlessly fascinating and completely irresistible, doesn't mean everybody else has to.

And Lestrade is a decent man, though Sherlock hasn't behaved at all well to him either.

Bloody Mycroft.

Sherlock doesn't know what it means that John threatened Mycroft with that in order to protect Lestrade. It might just be John's hatred of bullying, which is pretty strong. On the other hand, it might not.

He can't let himself think about what it would be like if John actually did that.

Sherlock sends the same text again; he's lost count of how many times he's sent it already.

Not lying any more.

Have made Mycroft

back off. Please

come home.

SH

As an afterthought this time, he texts:

Bring Lestrade

if you like.

That doesn't look quite right, so he adds:

And if he likes,

of course.

SH

Still something missing though. He sends a third one:

If I say I'm sorry

and I won't do it

again, will you

come home?

Please.

SH

To his astonishment, this one gets a reply.

Define *it*.

JW

Sherlock blinks. Thinks about it. The definition seems too long for one text, or even two.

He always used to prefer texting but that was when life was simpler. When all he wanted to say was Wrong!, or at most If brother has green ladder, arrest brother.

He selects John's number and presses Call.

It rings for a long time. Sherlock imagines John looking at the caller display and deciding whether to answer.

He remembers that first meeting, can't help it. Reading the signs of John's life so easily from Harry Watson's discarded mobile phone. The excitement of showing off his deductions to John, and the thrill of someone finally saying “That – was amazing” rather than the usual “Piss off”.

“ Sherlock.” John's voice now, answering his call. The sound catches Sherlock in the throat and for a long minute he can't say anything at all.

“ I'm sorry,” he says eventually. “Sorry I lied to Lestrade. Sorry I lied about you. Sorry about what Mycroft did, but I didn't ask him to, really I didn't. Sorry for not treating you properly. For behaving as if I owned you. Sorry about the threesome and making a mess of everything. I won't do it again. I promise. Please will you come home now?”

There's a longish silence at the other end and then John says “I think the list is pretty much correct. Not sure I believe you about not doing it again, though.”

“ OK, I will anyway,” Sherlock says, panicking. “Going to make some toast now.”

“ Try not to set fire to the kitchen,” John says. “You know how Mrs Hudson hates it when you do that.”

Sherlock's not sure if this is a joke or not. It might easily not be, given the number of times he has set fire to the kitchen.

“ Are you going to come home?” he asks.

“ I don't know,” John says. And hangs up.

Sherlock makes toast without setting fire to the kitchen. Forces himself to eat though he really doesn't want to, but it feels as if not doing what he promised John might make John not come back at all. Manages almost half a slice. Fights the desire to throw up. Makes himself a cup of tea and forgets to drink it.

He thinks about shooting at the wall again but he's not sure where John's hidden his gun this time and finding it seems too much like hard work.

He plays the violin for a while but the music's making it worse so he stops again.

He puts the television on but it's too much, too loud, too full of other people's lives and horrible jagged messy emotions and colours and shapes and movements. Puts it off again.

Comments

thank you - I think his suffering has spilled over into my computer because it has taken me about an hour to manage to post this blasted entry! it's either that or I've been hacked by a vengeful Mycroft...

but there /will/ be a resolution in part 9, assuming I can make my lj work better tomorrow than it was working tonight.

and then there will be a pwp chaser/detox for all the angst - an unrelated short!fic rather than a sequel.

Ow, poor Sherlock! Yes, he brought it upon himself, but still. And ok, Mycroft brought it upon him, as well. Now they've both been punished, as well they should - so I'm hoping for kissing and making up in the last installment? (Loving this story, btw! Grea POV shifts and voices.)

thank you so much! really glad you are enjoying it. it's been fun circling through the three POVs.

yes, I said /ow/ a few times myself while writing it, even though he deserved it. there will be some sort of resolution in the next and final part, though it's not easy to give everyone a happy ending when things have got this messy.

this story got started because I felt too sad for Lestrade in the blooms84 threesome fic, and I want things to be OK for him at the end of this one, whatever that's going to look like. I do think he's in better emotional shape to start with here than in my other long!angsty!fics, so I am hopeful.

OMFG. This and crocodile_eat_u's Collide chapter 8 has got me all worked up!

Okay I felt sorry for Sherlock too, but quickly reminded self of what he'd done, and toned down the swelling desire to comfort. Was glad that John and Lestrade held their ground firmly and didn't give in to Sherlock easily at the earliest appearance of an apology.

Mycroft brandishing his umbrella caused me to lol! Also this -

Mycroft doesn't usually swear but he looks the closest to saying Shit that Sherlock's ever seen him.

Now I think of it, I have never read the man swear in any fic ever. If he ever does, I suspect it will be the premonition for an earthquake.

I agree with you about Mycroft and swearing. there's not much swearing in the BBC series though presumably that's for the 12 rating - but the other characters do seem much more likely to swear than Mycroft does.

That's exactly my relationship with well written angst like this. It's so painful, cathartic, beautiful and every aspect of it is so human, how they all complicate things themselves.I can't wait to read the next part.<3

Well, I'd say Sherlock's very definitely learnt the consequences this time! Mycroft, too! Not something either Holmes is used to, but it needed to happen if there was any hope of clearing the air and getting John home. I'm glad Lestrade is there as well; maybe now they can all put cards on the table now and sort things out to everyone's satisfaction.